


trust has to be built somehow, title of our sex tape

by ElasticElla



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, brooklyn 99 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7080178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam just wants to be Captain one day. It's with this in mind that Sam doesn't start complaining when Fury pairs him up with Barnes to do week long surveillance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trust has to be built somehow, title of our sex tape

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We catch bad guys and look good doing it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6911890) by [MarauderCracker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderCracker/pseuds/MarauderCracker). 



> title from [this](http://steveandsam.tumblr.com/post/144017647230/sams-reaction-to-bucky-in-civil-war-is-the-most) really nice canon sambucky post  
> inspired by andrea's lovely brooklyn 99 au, you should all go read/comment/contribute to it <3  
> & i live on [tumblr](http://parkwest.tumblr.com/)

Sam Wilson does _not_ have a crush on the new Captain. Having a crush on Fury, however handsome and badass and in a position of authority that sneaks into a few too many of Sam's dreams, would be wildly inappropriate. And Sam has _always_ been appropriate… around authority figures. He was even voted most appropriate in high school. So regardless of whatever might be jokes, might be totally serious comments Natasha makes, he's ignoring them. 

Sam just wants to be Captain one day. And the fastest path to Captaincy is through Fury. It's with this in mind that Sam doesn't start complaining when Fury pairs him up with Barnes to do week long surveillance.

It isn't that he doesn't like Barnes, it's just that Barnes doesn't care much for rules or protocol or paperwork. Doubtless he would be hell to do surveillance with. Sam can't help but wish he'd been partnered up with Rogers instead- Mr. I sit around all day drawing but make _really_ great coffee. The only bright side is any arrest will count for both of them, so it's like a small hiatus from their 'who can catch more criminals and be the ultimate detective' bet. (And maybe Sam is planning on taking a few files to review while Barnes does surveillance. Whatever, it's technically not cheating and he's winning- _needs_ the little red remote control helicopter that Barnes used to bring to work pre-Fury.) 

The first hour is pretty decent. They set up in a tiny closet of an apartment, all of their equipment around the one slim window. Sam insists on outlining their shifts, and Barnes reluctantly agrees, rolling his eyes while tossing and catching the mini basketball with his non-prosthetic hand. (He unfortunately has excellent hand-eye coordination, and the ball does not bounce away under the single bed no matter how hard Sam wishes it.)

Barnes had bragged the drive over about having superior eyesight, and Sam just gave him the 9pm to 5am shift without feeling guilty. Which gave him the 5am to 1pm shift, and then the two of them trading two hour shifts until the cycle repeated. 

In theory, it was a solid plan. 

In reality, Sam has been thinking about murdering his coworker far more than is probably recommended for someone who carries a gun. Sam isn't sure who would win in a fight between them, but with the advantage of surprise maybe he-

Barnes adjusts the binoculars, _again_ , for like the twentieth time in the past hour or so, yet another small high pitched noise jarring Sam away from any hope of sleep. 

Sam's apparently glaring hard enough in his direction for Barnes' eyes to flicker over him briefly. 

“Dude. It's like midnight, you should get to sleep.”

 _Murder_. 

.

Five am comes too swiftly, and Sam's never been more thankful for shitty black coffee. Barnes is out the moment his head hits the pillow, and no amount of angrily adjusting and readjusting the binoculars wakes him. In a particularly petty move that Sam would absolutely deny later, he threw the mini basketball at the wall right above his head. 

Barnes just mumbled something indiscernible and rolled over. 

Sam hates everything. Especially the little brown birds that won't stop fucking chirping right outside their window. 

.

Sam sleeps from one to three pm, the nap kinda making up for the earlier fail at sleeping. 

Barnes wakes him up at three with a crack about him being Sleeping Beauty, and asking if he's going to sleep during all of his shifts. Sam just rolls his eyes, but when Barnes goes to shower, he sneaks into their small bathroom to flush the toilet, rushing back out to the window before Barnes can finish his, “ _Dammit_ Wilson!” 

Sam is still snickering five minutes later, when a heavy, _freezing_ weight is placed on his shoulder. 

“Fucking hell!” Sam exclaims. Barnes grins, pressing down a little harder before lifting his prosthetic hand from his shoulder, leaving Sam's shirt cold and damp. 

“I don't think I've heard you swear since Captain Fury took over.”

“Oh it is _on_ Barnes. Just you wait… twenty-four minutes.”

Barnes snorts, heading into their kitchenette to grab the box of Rice Krispies he's been eating straight from the box without milk like a heathen. 

“I'm quivering in my boots.” 

.

Sam actually waits an hour and thirty-two minutes, enjoying the tense set on Barnes' shoulders as he waits for retaliation. It's when the man begins to really relax- not the fake relaxing he'd tried a half hour in- that Sam decides to make himself a snack, or maybe it's lunch. Time's already feeling strange, only the trade off times mattering. 

Whatever it is, Sam is popping an extra big bag of kettlecorn, the delicious sweet scent quickly filling their room. Sam sets up at their one table, tilts his chair back, kicks his feet up, has his binder of other cases, and slowly opens the bag of popcorn. 

Barnes' nose twitches. 

Sam smiles, smugly tossing a few kernels into his mouth, chewing as loudly as possible with an open mouth. 

Barnes is now glaring through the binoculars, lips thin. Clearly refusing to ask for any of the popcorn he wants. 

Sam has never had such delicious kettlecorn, making a few unnecessary appreciative noises and going through the cases with a highlighter. A new lead pops out at him, rereading the Sanders case, and Sam is having a good fucking day. 

.

Day four they agree on a truce, and all that matters is _Barnes_ was the one to ask for it. Not that Sam was far behind on the shit he was willing to put up with scale, there's something _wrong_ with purposefully ruining someone's toast, but Barnes caves first. Loser. 

It's ten in the morning, and for the fifth long shift in a row, Sam has to begrudgingly admit that Barnes does not snore. He was so sure of it going in, had a handful of puns and every time Barnes closes his eyes, Sam thinks _maybe now_. It's probably weird that he's thinking about Barnes so much, but Sam decides to chalk it up to living with him in a confined space. Doubtless it'll wear off once things are back to normal. 

One of the birds is building a nest. Christ. Sam isn't even sure how it fits on the little ledge, much less how a nest will. It's a gray dove, and when it flies away, Sam sees it's already halfway done, a circle of little twigs in the corner. 

Then there's movement across the street, and Sam forgets about the nest. 

(Their person doesn't come out, it's just a pizza delivery.)

.

Day six everything changes. 

Day six, Sam wakes up to a heavy weight straddling him, scratchy kisses roaming up his jaw.

“Ba- _Bucky_?” Sam says, because it feels weird to use his last name like this, and Bucky's smile is wide and earnest as he leans up, putting some space between them. 

“Morning babe.” 

Sam gulps, “We called a truce. What the hell man?” 

Bucky does some squiggly thing with his hips, heat flashing through Sam. “We did, I thought I'd show you how very… appreciative I am.” 

And that, that doesn't sound quite right and Sam should probably be wary of Bucky still. But his mouth is dipping down, is hot on his throat, and Sam doesn't care if this is all an elaborate ruse, it feels too good. 

“I wanna,” Bucky pauses, sucking at his collarbone, nipping hard enough to leave a bruise. 

“What?” Sam asks, more breathless and curious than demanding, hands sliding down Bucky's back. 

“Wake up!” 

“Huh?” 

“Wake up Wilson,” Bucky repeats, less seductive and Sam's eyelids flutter open for real. 

Bucky's smirking down at him, way too amused. 

“I never knew Sleeping Beauty got morning wood.” 

“Oh fuck off,” Sam says, getting up, angled away from Barnes. 

“Now that's not language befitting royalty,” Barnes teases. “Who were you dreaming of?” 

“I'm taking a shower,” Sam says, escaping into the bathroom. Barnes voice trails after him, reminding him he only has four minutes, and that's fine. He's taking the coldest shower possible, obviously time away from other human beings has messed up his head. Bu- _Barnes_ wasn't crush material. 

He just _wasn't_.

(There's already a pro-con list in his head, and disturbingly, the pro side is overwhelmingly winning. And maybe if Barnes ends up getting more arrests than him, maybe a date wouldn't be the _worst_ thing.)


End file.
